


a deluge in slow-motion

by a_venoir



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Physical Therapy, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 09:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9715835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_venoir/pseuds/a_venoir
Summary: Kim Jongin is everything a celebrity should be. He's tall and handsome, and the dark waves of his hair look soft under the sunlight. He limps with the ease of someone who knows his body well. Sehun wonders if it's because he's a performer that he's able to keep a smile on his face, despite the way his face tenses at the bumps and the way his leg hangs between each of his steps.





	

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from [lj](http://baredreams.livejournal.com/982.html)

Sehun's first impression of Jongin is that his shoes are too shiny. The black shiny tips of his oxfords get dusty from the dirt coming off in clouds from the road as soon as he leaves the car. Someone (maybe a manager, maybe an agent) comes around the other side of the car to help Jongin walk the short distance to the hospital's front door. Kim Jongin is everything a celebrity should be. He's tall and handsome, and the dark waves of his hair look soft under the sunlight. He limps with the ease of someone who knows his body well. And even though Jongin might be biting back pain every time his leg is jostled, he holds his head high. Sehun wonders if it's because he's a performer that he's able to keep a smile on his face, despite the way his face tenses at the bumps and the way his leg hangs between each of his steps.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
Sehun has been living in the Bonghwa county for two years now. Bonghwa is made of rice fields and narrow roads and it's ringed by mountains. It's colder than in Seoul and he still hasn't gotten used to the difference; catching colds in the summer and chills in the winter. He's taken to wearing cardigans in the summer and sweatshirts in the winter.  
  
It's the first post he's gotten after his residency and he's still not used to a life outside of Seoul. Things move slower in the country and the crawling pace of the village frustrates him. It's mostly old ladies with bad hips and farmers with displaced shoulders and it's a far cry from what he'd imagined himself doing. He'd wanted to work with _athletes_ , not senior citizens.  
  
When he complains about the dampness setting into his house and how he has to shout for his patients to hear him, his mother just says _Come back to Seoul then._  
  
And he would if he could find a job. But for a physiotherapist, not a _doctor,_ straight out of residency, it’s hard to find work and the position in Bonghwa pays well. Besides, even if the cases he handles are mundane, they're easy. Aging is the illness that's the most well documented and all of his patients are suffering from it.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
Jongin doesn't sit into the chair, he crumples, his body only making it halfway down before his legs give out and his manager has to support his weight as he falls the rest of the way into the seat. He's exhausted and his eyes have trouble focusing on the figure in front of him, but once he does he frowns.  
  
"Where is Dr. Lee?" He looks at Sehun warily, hands pale from gripping the arms of the chair. There's sweat on his brow and his gaze is feverish.  
  
_Dr. Lee..._ Sehun remembers the previous doctor, a kindly old man with thick eyebrows and a wide smile. His hands had been warm when he shook Sehun's hands and he had helped Sehun carry into his boxes and suitcases; the few things he brought to the village moved into the house in half the time.  
  
"He doesn't work here anymore." Sehun purses his lip slightly in an attempt to mask the unease he feels and he grips his pen tightly. "I'm the doctor here now."  
  
The color drains from Jongin's face. The last hope he was holding onto is snapping before him and Sehun almost feels sorry enough to forgive him for the slight to his abilities. "Do you know where he is? He still lives in the village, right?"  
  
Sehun nods. "Yeah, but I think he's in America right now, visiting his daughter."  
  
"He has a daughter...?" Jongin looks dazed, his composure slowly falling apart as his shoulders droop and his mouth falls slack. "Do you know when he'll be back?"  
  
He doesn't know. It could be next week or it could be next year for all the doctor has told him, but one look at Jongin makes him feel bad enough to tell a little white lie. "Two weeks. Do you think you can wait that long?"  
  
Jongin laughs weakly, "I suppose so. I don't have much choice, do I?"  
  
And there's the gentle drip of rainwater off the metal sheeting of the roof filling the silence left between them, the drops of water leaving dark marks in the dirt.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
_Jongin's just another patient,_ he tries to remind himself. So what if he's famous or slightly good looking? In a hospital everyone's the same. They all fight the limitations of their bodies, hoping that will alone is enough to carry them through. And Jongin is no different. _But..._ Sehun turns back to the faucet, turning the tap and watching as the sink drains bubbles from his toothpaste disappearing with the swirl of water. Everything in his life seems to be overflowing. He shakes his toothbrush and returns it to the cup next to the mirror.  
  
Things don't just become too much overnight. It's the slow buildup of water against sandstone until the rock wears through. It's days of eating the same vegetables and the same Family Mart bento boxes because it's too much trouble to travel to the local grocery store. It's months of worrying over how he's going to pay off his med school bills only to be looked down upon as a doctor.  
  
He's tired.  
  
Sehun stares at his face in the mirror, noting the faint wrinkles beginning to form between his eyebrows. Maybe the hours of appointments and patients are finally taking a toll on him. It hasn't been long since he left school and yet the years feel like decades. Every weekend is too short and every workday stretches into oceans of hours that spill over. He splashes water on his face and his chin drips as he searches for a towel, patting his face dry.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
Jongin doesn't make the front page. He's not so famous that the average citizen would care that his world is falling apart. He's only one of the many dancers throughout history to have suffered an injury and quietly fade into the background while he licks his wounds and prepares to return to the stage. But he's famous enough to get a small column in the entertainment section dedicated to his disappearance.  
  
Several phrases pop out to Sehun and he scans the article quickly, trying to pick up the main topics. "Kim Jongin falls during show," he reads. "Management assure the public that he's fine." "Dancer decides to take an overdue vacation and visit tropical beaches." He refolds the newspaper and sets it on the table, his eyebrows creasing. There's nothing tropical about their small village.  
  
The black car pulls up exactly a half an hour before his appointment, but this time it's only two people instead of the usual four. Once again his manager helps him to the bench, hanging over the other worriedly and asking if Jongin needs anything anxiously.  
  
It's early morning and even with the few people awake, Kim Jongin sticks out like a boy in a lingerie store. The grandmothers waiting for appointments about their hips and arthritis-ridden fingers stare at him, shifting over to let him sit on the bench beside them. They eye him curiously and some of the more bold ones offer up photos of their granddaughters, ignoring the bored expression and noncommittal hums of disinterest.  
  
Sehun feels a bit sorry for him, watching the old ladies gather around him like hungry wolves and he speaks to the nurse, rushing through his prior appointment and moving Jongin's scheduled time up by fifteen minutes to get him away from the pack descending around him.  
  
Jongin's face is ashen as he hobbles slowly across the room, reaching out to hold onto the back of the chair until he can finally sit down. Although Sehun had toyed with the idea of helping Jongin, there was a note of determination in the set of Jongin's jaw that kept Sehun seated at his desk.  
  
"Your manager isn't coming in today?" He gestures to the empty space with his pen, raising an eyebrow.  
  
But Jongin doesn't answer the question. Instead he looks at Sehun carefully, his head tilting as he leans forward to study him more closely, the look in his eyes disdainful. "You look very young."  
  
Sehun's smile is tightlipped. He's already well aware that twenty-seven is young for a doctor. "I'm old enough." He holds a hand out for the clipboard, placing it on his desk. "It says here that the surgery was successful."  
  
It's Jongin's turn to grimace, his hand automatically clutches the part of his thigh that surgical scars wind around. "They said it was."  
  
"The residual effects could be psychological." He looks up from his desk.  
  
Jongin laughs bitterly. "Tell that to the pain in my leg."  
  
Sehun leans forward slightly, catching a glimpse of Jongin's legs folded under the visitor's chair. He can't see the muscles like this and he leans back. "I see."  
  
"Do you have trouble walking around normally?"  
  
"You saw me walk in here," Jongin says, his voice biting. Then he shifts uneasily. "When did you say Dr. Lee was going to be back? I'd rather talk to him directly about all of this."  
  
"Two weeks," Sehun lies. He takes notes on a pad of paper, wondering how he's going to help someone who refuses to take him seriously and wondering if he even wants to.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
The thing about small villages is that they already know everything about the people living there. There are barely any secrets and others' embarrassing stories are traded at parties like chips at a poker game. So when a newcomer moves in everyone races against each other to discover something new to share, each of them curious about the stranger that showed up on the outskirts of town, renting an old farmhouse and using a car instead of a scooter to travel the roads.  
  
"I heard he's a famous dancer," baits one of the women at the grocery store as she packs up Sehun's purchases. "And that his wife kicked him out of the house. That's why he's out here. He's too ashamed to show his face in Seoul."  
  
Sehun grabs the plastic bag from her. "He isn't even married."  
  
Her eyes widen and she grins, waving after him as he leaves the store. "Thank you, Dr. Oh!"  
  
In a small village like this news travels faster than fire. So it wasn't long before he hears stories about Jongin begin to trickle between the residents.  
  
"I heard he was a singer!" A woman leans into her husband, the plastic of her rain hat crinkling against his head, her hand gripping his arm for support.  
  
The old man shakes his head, disagreeing. "Well, _I_ heard he was an actor!"  
  
"Dr. Oh said he was single!" says a woman excitedly after she watches the black car pull into the parking lot and the patients waiting for check-ups turn to stare out the window as Jongin pulls himself from the car.  
  
Another woman snorts. "That young man? Do you think he'd be able to work in the fields with a leg like that? I'd rather my son-in-law be plain faced and strong than handsome with a bum leg." The other ladies hush her quickly, glancing over towards Sehun meaningfully and Sehun pretends not to have heard.  
  
All this fuss. Sehun remembers when he first came into the village, smelling of freshly bought shirts and shoe polish. Now he smells of ginseng and herbal medicine.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
It's early when Sehun wakes the next morning. The light setting over the landscape outside his window is still a pale blue and there's still dew pearling on his windowsill.  
  
He leans on the frame, knocking the ashes of his cigarette out the window. The buzzing of insects is only noise in the background of his thoughts as he looks out across the fields, watching people in the neighboring plots plant rice seedlings. Their boots move sluggishly through the water, murky bubbles forming and breaking with each of their weary steps.  
  
The small sprigs of green stand in straight rows, reaching out towards the sunlight, their roots flooded. Water nurtures the tiny seedlings and helps them grow. But even if water can give life, it also drowns and it chokes. It wears down metal and it cuts through stone.  
  
A gust of wind blows the ashes from the end of his cigarette and he wonders if they'll blow all the way into the fields. And he finds that he doesn't care if the sprouts become speckled with white flakes.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
There isn't much to do this far out from the city and Sehun is grateful that one of his friends from high school lives in the area. He and Jongdae don't always see eye to eye, but at least Jongdae knows when Sehun wants to talk and when he wants silence.  
  
It also helps that Jongdae's one of the few people less than twenty years older than him.  
  
"I heard that you have a new patient." Jongdae smiles as he settles across from Sehun, raising his eyebrow at him. He steals a chicken wing from Sehun's plate.  
  
Sehun groans, sinking his face into his hands, "He hates me. He really hates me."  
  
"He barely even knows you, I doubt he _hates_ you already." Jongdae scoffs, washing the chicken down with a gulp of his beer. The hands that grip the glass are brown with dirt, black lines of soil built up underneath his fingernails.  
  
The dirt reminds Sehun that his friend has his own work problems and he bites his lip. "How is work going?" Sehun asks politely, folding up his napkin to hide a smear of grease.  
  
Jongdae laughs. "Don't pretend to be interested in the distillery. I know you called me out here so you could complain about the clinic."  
  
Sehun sighs. _Of course Jongdae wouldn't be fooled by small talk._ It's like they're back in high school again, back when Jongdae was his senior in the stage crew. Back then they used to skip out of work by hiding under the bleachers and Jongdae would listen to Sehun complain about all manner of things.  
  
"He's just..." He struggles to find the words to voice his frustration.  
  
"You think he's looking down on you." Jongdae guesses, holding the glass of beer to his lips once again.  
  
"I _know_ he's looking down on me," Sehun argues, slamming his palm against the table. The dishes rattle slightly and Jongdae reaches out to push a bottle of beer further away from the edge of the table.  
  
"Give him time, he's putting his future in your hands. How would you feel if the fate of your career was dependent on his ability as a dancer? You'd be worried too."  
  
Jongdae's words don't register as much emotion with him as they probably should. _The fate of Sehun's career..._ He feels surprisingly apathetic and he covers the lack of emotion with a forced frown, using the napkin in front of him to dry the perspiration beading on his glass.  
  
"You're supposed to take _my side_." Sehun's lips are tight across his face and Jongdae laughs at the pout.  
  
"I am. And being on your side means I have to let you know when you're being unreasonable." He smiles, leaning forward. "Besides, isn't dancing is a sport? Here's your chance to work with an athlete like you always wanted."  
  
The small restaurant is hot with smoke and Sehun watches as another droplet of water rolls down the soju bottle, scrunching his nose.  
  
"You're an awful hyung," he groans.  
  
To which Jongdae just chuckles, pretending to raise his glass in a salute.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
The next day when Jongin visits for his appointment Sehun has prepared a list of different exercises he can do. There are pages of handwritten notes that he compiled from old textbooks and he nearly stayed up all night surrounding by books and papers as he flipped through diagrams of muscles and bone.  
  
Reaching out over his desk, he nervously holds out the final copy of his notes.  
  
"I wrote down some exercises that you can do." Sehun nudges the pages closer gently, urging for the other to take them and finally he does.  
  
Jongin flips through the pages, glancing through the lines of penned script while Sehun watches anxiously. He's written up schedules for patients before, but it was never this elaborate nor had the case been quite as delicate. He keeps wondering if he missed something; _what if he makes the injury worse?_  
  
He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he has years of schooling and experience behind him. He can do this.  
  
"I thought maybe we could start with some light stretches. Then after you warm up we could build up the muscle with some exercises using the bar-"  
  
Jongin breaks in, frowning. "I didn't ask you to do something like this."  
  
"What?" Sehun stops short, and he's still too shocked to be angry but-  
  
This is his _job._  
  
Ignoring Sehun's outburst, Jongin continues calmly. "I thought I told you earlier. I want to wait for Dr. Lee to come back." He puts the sheets of paper back on Sehun's desk and for a moment Sehun's gaze is caught on the loops and lines of his writing, remembering how hard it was to make the characters legible.  
  
"You want to wait? Fine. I know you don't think I'm a capable doctor, but at least let me help you until Dr. Lee returns. If you delay your treatment it will only be more difficult for you later. "  
  
He stands, circling his desk and holding out the notes to Jongin once again. It's hard to keep the anger from his voice and the words come out brisk, urging when Jongin hesitates. "Just take them. Even if you don't end up using them, take them." He shoves the papers into the other's hands. "I wrote them for you so there's not point in me keeping them."  
  
"Fine." Jongin accepts the pages reluctantly, folding up the papers and slipping them into his pocket. Sehun watches one sleepless night of work disappear into Jongin's pocket. And then, after a terse goodbye, Jongin leaves, and Sehun has to work to unclench his hands.  
  
/\\\//\  
  
The events of the morning sit on Sehun's mind all day and he has trouble staying focused at work. Jongin could have at least said _thank you._ But instead he threw all of Sehun's hard work back in his face. There's the slow burn of anger filling his gut every time he thinks about how Jongin reacted and he slams his desk drawer shut, knocking over a cup of pens in the process. The irritation continues even when he leaves work and he decides to treat himself, picking up a pizza from a store a few towns over instead of making dinner. As soon as he gets home he's going to settle back with a drink and not think about someone named Kim Jongin.  
  
Sehun's waiting for Netflix to load, a cold beer in his hand and a plate of crumbs before him, when the doorbell rings. He sighs, glancing at his computer before leaving it and making his way to the door. He peeks through the peephole of the door and unlatches it once he sees who it is, cracking the door before swinging it wide.  
  
"Jongin?" It's a cool summer evening with no trace of the earlier humidity from the afternoon. The sky is on the verge of darkening and there's a hint of navy tinging the sea of blue; clouds threatening to overtake the blue altogether.  
  
The dancer smiles slightly, scratching his nape. He meets Sehun's gaze hesitantly, like it had taken a lot of thought before he decided to visit. "I thought maybe you could show me around the village?" His eyes sweep to the side, looking out over the plots of rice. "The last time I was here was a long time ago."  
  
"You were here before?" Sehun's surprised that none of the village's nosy residents were able to uncover that.  
  
"Yeah, I lived in a nearby village before I was cast into my current company. I used to have weekly check-ups with Dr. Lee before my audition so I guess I just..." he leaves the rest of the sentence unspoken but Sehun recognizes an apology when he hears one.  
  
He bites his lip, trying to keep himself from smiling. "It's okay."  
  
"I guess no one remembers because I was so young then." He looks up at Sehun, the corners of his mouth curling up. There's a beat of silence while they both look at each other and Sehun realizes that he never responded the other's request.  
  
"So... that tour..." Sehun continues and Jongin looks up hopefully. "To be honest I'm not sure what you want to see. There aren't many places to go here. The grocery store, along with the restaurants and stores, are mainly in the neighboring towns. There's only really a Family Mart, the clinic and..." He gestures to the fields surrounding them. "This."  
  
"Show me where Family Mart is then?"  
  
Sehun shrugs, turning back to get his coat and keys. "All right."  
  
The drive to the convenience store is tense. The silence between them stretches uncomfortably long and Sehun tries to think of the rumors that have been floating around for the past few days, trying to catch ahold of something he could ask the other about.  
  
"So you're a singer?" He finally says, "What's that like?"  
  
Jongin laughs, folding his hands in his lap. "Is that what they said?" He smiles, and when he looks up at Sehun a chunk of hair falls across his eyes. "Not a singer, but a dancer." The car goes over a bump and Jongin holds onto the handle on the door, trying to ease weight off of his leg. "I work for the Korea.... the Korea National Contemporary Dance Company."  
  
Sehun smiles at the way that Jongin trips over the long name, the other's eyebrows furrowing slightly. "That's quite a mouthful."  
  
Jongin grins. "Should I try saying it three times fast?"  
  
Slowly the atmosphere between them starts to lighten. Jongin tells Sehun about the years he spent training in Seoul, the years he spent slowly working up to the position he had now, the lead dancer in many of the upcoming projects and the choreographer for a few others. And in return Sehun tells him of the years he spent in residency, how he survived on a few hours of sleep every week and the promises of a secure future. One of them thrived on dreams and the other thrived on promises of security.  
  
The convenience store isn't much different than those in the city, yet Jongin looks through the snacks with amusement. Although the selection of products is much more limited, there are also some local products on the shelves. He holds up a package of dried mushrooms, pointing to an old woman on the front. "Is this local? I think I saw this person waiting in your clinic."  
  
Sehun peers closer at the packaging, snorting when he recognizes the person in the photo. "I'm sure Mr. Byun would be glad to know that you think he looks exactly like his grandmother."  
  
Shoving the packet back onto the shelves they make their way around the rest of the store, laughing to each other as they point out various things and commiserating over the limited alcohol selection available. They finally leave the store without buying anything at all and the cashier's eyes blankly follow them out.  
  
The drive back to his house seems shorter than the drive there, Jongin fiddling with the radio and Sehun knocking his hand away as they argue over which girl groups are better. The clouds continue to gather and the sky darkens suddenly, the threat of rain looming over them.  
  
Finally, when they're walking from the car to Sehun's house, it starts to rain. The ground ahead of them is peppered with raindrops and without thinking Sehun grabs onto Jongin's wrist, tugging him forward. They stumble through the front door and when Jongin bends over, touching his leg and wincing, Sehun could kill himself for forgetting that Jongin's leg was injured. "I'm sorry, I forgot that you couldn't..." He gestures helplessly.  
  
Jongin is smiling and his sweatshirt is speckled with rain. "It's fine." And when he asks to wait out the rain at Sehun's house the other agrees, surprised at how much he enjoys the extra company.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
It takes a few tries for Sehun to get something other than an error message when he tries calling the doctor. He's not used to calling outside of the country and the various area codes are confusing to him. It takes an online search of how to call to America from Korea before he's able to get through.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
The voice takes Sehun by surprise. "H-hi? Dr. Lee?" He shifts his phone closer to his ear, speaking louder into the earpiece.  
  
"Who is this? Is this... Sehun?" The older man's voice sounds warbled through the speaker.  
  
"Yeah," He licks his lips. "How's your daughter?"  
  
"Fine, fine...Did you really call me just to ask about how my daughter is?" Dr. Lee chuckles. "Isn't it 5 A.M. in Korea? We're just about to have dinner." He doesn't sound angry, but amused, his voice wavering with restrained laughter.  
  
Sehun flushes. "O-oh! I'm sorry!" He settles down onto his couch, looking at the pale light streaming through the window as he pulls his sweater more tightly around him. "I wanted to ask when you were coming back. There's someone who wants to see you."  
  
"And you aren't good enough?"  
  
"I guess not." Sehun pulls his feet up underneath him, warming his feet against the couch cushions.  
  
"So who is it?"  
  
"Kim Jongin." A bird flies by the window and the light cast onto the floor flickers with the interruption.  
  
The doctor hums in understanding. "Ah, Jongin. He's all grown up now, isn't he." He laughs shortly, his voice apologetic once he finally speaks. "He'll have to wait because I'm not planning on coming back for a few more weeks."  
  
He thinks of the way Jongin kept asking for the older man and he bites his lip. "He'll be disappointed."  
  
"He's famous now, he shouldn't keep clinging to me." The doctor speaks to a voice on the other side of the line before he continues. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. We're going to it down for dinner now. Sehun, don't worry, you'll be able to help him just fine."  
  
The line goes dead and Sehun holds his phone in his hand, looking at the darkened screen.  
  
"I hope so."  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
It's the first day of using Sehun's schedule of exercises and they go through the list carefully so that Sehun can show him how to do each of them properly. _Doing a stretch wrong is worse than not doing it at all,_ his teachers have always said, and Sehun isn't about to test that theory out on Jongin.  
  
He shrugs off his lab coat, hanging it over the back of his chair and rolling up his sleeves. "We're going to start with calf raises. Have you ever done those before?"  
  
Jongin shakes his head, _no_.  
  
Sehun helps him up, pulling a chair in front of him. "Hold onto the back of this." He holds Jongin steady by his hips, staring at the broad expanse of back in front of him. He grips Jongin's hips tightly, guiding them upward. "Then, slowly raise onto the balls of your feet." The bones under his fingertips shift upward and Sehun helps him stand, taking some of Jongin's weight in his arms. Sehun's arms tense with the effort and his fingers slip into the gap between Jongin's shirt and pants, the touch of skin to skin surprising him into pulling away.  
  
Jongin falls back on his heels, wincing at the sudden impact.  
  
He can still feel Jongin on his fingertips and he rubs his hands together to get rid of the sensation.  
  
"I'm sorry." He clears his throat. "But you know how to do it now, right? Why don't you show me fifteen repetitions and I'll check your posture?"  
  
Jongin nods, "Sounds good to me." The hem of his shirt is rumpled where Sehun's fingers had grazed it and Sehun's eyes catch there for a moment, looking at the sliver of skin.  
  
Then he catches himself, relieved that Jongin was too distracted with his leg to notice Sehun's lingering look. He licks his lips, his throat dry. "Remember: up on your toes, then hold it for five seconds before you release."  
  
Things go smoother once Sehun isn't guiding Jongin by touch and he begins to relax again, making minute corrections to Jongin's posture as he does his repetitions.  
  
"Good, good." Sehun leads Jongin to a small gym in the back of the clinic. It's only a twenty-by-twenty square foot room floored with wood and a few exercise machines. There's a set of weights in the corner and a couple yoga mats are rolled up against the wall. On one side there are parallel bars and that's where Sehun leads Jongin, placing his hands on the rails.  
  
"I want you to walk from end to end on your tip toes. You can hold onto the bars for extra support, but try to keep most of your weight on your feet."  
  
Jongin nods and begins to walk between the bars; his hands gripping the metal tightly.  
  
The door opens. "Dr. Oh, your next patient is here."  
  
Sehun looks to the nurse and nods. Then he turns back to Jongin."Keep doing these exercises. If you get tired you can take a break, it's not good to overwork the bone. I'll come back to check on you later, all right?"  
  
Jongin grunts his response, his hands already closed around the metal bars as he slowly pulls himself from one end to the other. He winces when he puts too much weight on his leg, and sweat is gathering at his hairline. His arms strain with effort and Sehun pauses to remind Jongin that he should be exercising his leg and not his arms. The other nods and he lowers more weight onto his legs, continuing to walk.  
  
Sehun follows the nurse outside, grabbing a clipboard and pen from his office. "Who's next?"  
  
The nurse hands him a folder. "Mr. Byun wants you to look at his ankle. He said he injured it doing hapkido."  
  
Sehun sighs, " _Again?_ " He looks back at the doorway behind him. "Well tell him to come into my office then. I'll see what I can do."  
  
He can see into the gym through the open doorway and he sits at his desk, watching as Jongin pulls himself along the parallel bars. He's still walking on the tip of his toes as Sehun showed him. Jongin's head bobs as he walks to a stilted rhythm and Sehun watches it out of the corner of his eye as he makes his next patient do the usual range of motion exercises. Despite the fact that the ankle injury is minor, Sehun checks it carefully and throughout the next hour he can still see Jongin doing the exercises faithfully, only faltering from time to time when his leg gives out underneath him and Jongin's hair is soaked with sweat by the time Sehun checks on him.  
  
"I told you to take a break when you got tired." He watches Jongin hold onto the bar, pushing himself up on his toes and counting the seconds before he returns to standing flat on his feet.  
  
"I'm not tired." Jongin responds stubbornly and lifts forward again.  
  
It's more determination than he was expecting from a celebrity and Sehun bites back a smile, thinking that maybe he can help Jongin after all.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
"Jongin's not so bad." Sehun gnaws on a pork bone, grease on his lips and his legs crossed in front of him. They're at their usual place, but instead of eating chicken they opted for pork this time.  
  
Jongdae snorts in disbelief, leaning forward to use the tongs to flip pieces of meat on the grill in front of them. "When did you decide this? I'm pretty sure I heard you complaining that he was an asshole the last time we ate together."  
  
"Did not!" Sehun frowns, stabbing at his plate, the bits of meat avoiding his chopsticks.  
  
He pauses in his task. "Okay, so maybe not that word exactly. But it was definitely _implied_." Jongdae waves the tongs back and forth, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Implied, nothing!" He grabs another piece of meat from the grill.  
  
"So why don't you invite him out to eat with us?"  
  
Sehun huffs, spitting out a piece of bone onto his plate. "I don't like him _that_ much."  
  
Jongdae shrugs, piling pieces of cooked meat onto his plate.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
It's two weeks into treatment that Jongin's smile first breaks.  
  
"I'll get better." Jongin clenches his fists, blowing his bangs from his eyes. It's chilly early in the morning and there's a fog settling over the mountains. Jongin suddenly looks small against the backdrop of hills surrounding them and his tracksuit is damp with sweat. The ground is soft under their feet and their shoes leave imprints in the dirt. His leg is trembling under the weight of his body and Sehun wants to tell him he doesn't have to try so hard, that he's already done well.  
  
"How do you know?" It's not what he wants to say but it's what he wants to know. He can't understand how Jongin can have so much conviction after days of failed attempts.  
  
Jongin finally meets Sehun's eyes. It looks as if he'd forgotten that Sehun was there, a slight tinge of shock in his wide gaze. A breeze rifles through the trees and Jongin breathes in slowly, his spine straightening knot by knot.  
  
"I just know." He sets his jaw determinedly. "The same way that I knew that I would be a dancer and the same way I knew that I would stand on the stage for the rest of my life."  
  
And Sehun has never wanted anything quite as badly as Jongin wants to be able to dance. He became a doctor so that his parents could brag to their neighbors about how smart their youngest boy was. And even this job was for his parents; was for the sake of giving them something to be proud of. What does he want to do? Was there ever anything he wanted to do?  
  
He mulls over the question for the rest of Jongin's appointment. He vaguely remembers as a child watching Donovan McNabb play through the rest of a football game on a broken ankle, his eight-year-old eyes sparkling with admiration. He remembers trying to find reports of the player's recovery online, wishing that he could help someone that had been so brave recover, and he remembers the crushing disappointment he felt when McNabb had missed the remaining games of the season. And as he helps Jongin walk back to the clinic he thinks of McNabb again, picturing the quarterback who continued to play through the pain.  
  
Maybe it wasn't that he hadn't wanted to be a doctor, but just that he had forgotten _why_.  
  
After they get back to the office Sehun jots down a few notes Jongin starts to leave. But when his hand is at the doorknob he turns back, facing Sehun with resolve.  
  
"I _have_ to dance again."  
  
"What?" Sehun drops his pen and it rolls off the desk. He reaches down to get it with a groan. His back cracks as he sits back up and he frowns, rubbing it as he looks at Jongin.  
  
"I don't know how to live without dancing." Jongin looks down at the floor and his words are pleading. "So please, help me dance again."  
  
Sehun's never seen Jongin this vulnerable before. He always sees the Jongin that holds in his winces of pain or smiles through the stumbles. He never bothering looking behind the smiles to see the unease buried underneath each lift of lips. He thinks of the smile McNabb had when his team won the game and the way he finally collapsed once victory was theirs.  
  
He puts the pen back on his desk. His next appointment isn't for another half an hour and he still has some time.  
  
"Come here, I'll show you some more stretches you can do."  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
In the early morning the roads are still damp with the sweat of the night. They aren't dusty yet and the dirt is darker than usual. There isn't anyone in the fields today. Instead, there's an eerie calm that settles into the village and Sehun scans the rows of rice seedlings again and again, hoping to see the familiar sight of straw hats bobbing on the sea of green.  
  
Frowning, he pulls his hands inside. He looks at the cigarette between his fingers, rolling the white paper over his skin. He slips off the bed and walks to the bookcase, finding his ashtray behind a medical textbook. Then he snuffs the cigarette into the ceramic, the white ashes in contrast to the black glaze.  
  
It's time to go to work.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
"I have to help him." Sehun says when Jongdae takes the seat across from him. And he doesn't even bother saying who because Jongdae already knows who he's talking about. His world for the past weeks has been only revolving around Jongin and every time they meet he can't stop talking about Jongin. Jongin. _Jongin._  
  
"I thought that's what you were doing already." Jongdae raises an eyebrow, chuckling as he pours himself a glass of soju, the bottle leaving a wet ring on the table.  
  
"No. I mean," Sehun pauses, trying to collect his thoughts. "I _was_ , but now... I _want_ to." He wrings his hands in his lap.  
  
Jongdae sets the cup down, his interest caught. "Elaborate, please."  
  
It's rare that Sehun changes his mind about his first impression of people, so what was it about _Kim Jongin_ that was different?  
  
"He reminded me how it feels to want something." His words come out softer than he plans and he quickly takes a sip of beer to hide his embarrassment.  
  
And Jongdae might wink at him and he might misunderstand his words as lust, but it's different than that. It's wanting to hold onto that flickering life that tugs at his pulse and makes him feel like the world is moving once again. It's looking into the fire that burns in Jongin's every movement, seeing that passion and feeling that determination and wishing that he could ignite the same depths of emotion within himself. It's wanting to protect Jongin from becoming as apathetic as he is.  
  
No. As apathetic as he _was_. Because for once his life is overflowing with something other than dissatisfaction.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
When water builds up there's a point at which it overflows. If it's a dam then once it breaks everything flows through at once and there's nothing left. But if a cup overflows then it stays full even after it spills over. One loses everything and the other holds onto something. Sehun taps his cigarette into the ashtray in his had, looking out at the clouds settling into the mountain and wondering which one Jongin is: if he's a dam that will break or if he's a cup that will retain some of what he felt before. He leans forward and the sheets are pulled taut across his lap, the pale curls of smoke drifting out into the morning fog.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
Sehun holds Jongin's arm as they walk slowly down the paths criss-crossing through the fields. The farmers are digging a new irrigation channel and their arms move busily as they scoop shovelfuls of dirt from the ground.  
  
"I should be charging you for this." Sehun teases, squeezing Jongin's arm slightly to get his attention. "You said that you wanted to hang out but all you're doing are asking me medical questions." The wind tousles his blonde hair, flopping it from side to side.  
  
His cheeks tinged red, Jongin laughs sheepishly. "I'm sorry. Once Dr. Lee comes back I'll bug him with all my medical questions and we can only talk about the fun things." His jaw tenses slightly and Sehun holds onto his arm more firmly, watching as the tension in the bone fades. "What did you want to talk about then?"  
  
Sehun hums, thinking. He watches dirt flung through the air and a man stops to wipe at his brow with the towel around his neck. He still doesn't know when Dr. Lee is going to come back and he is grateful for the change in topic. "Maybe tell me about your family? You've only mentioned your parents before. Do you have any siblings?"  
  
Nodding, he wobbles slightly when he trips on an uneven stretch and Sehun holds him steady. "Yeah two sisters. And three dogs."  
  
Sehun only has one older brother. He's never had pets and he can't imagine how dirty the house would be with six extra pairs of feet tracking dirt around and he says as much, making Jongin laugh once again.  
  
"I suppose that's true too." He pauses, taking a moment to watch the workers dig out the canal. "But I really love dogs. When I was a kid I always thought I'd become a veterinarian, you know?" His eyes flicker as they follow the arch of dirt.  
  
"Why didn't you?" Sehun doesn't realize that he's stopped walking until Jongin turns to him, questioning. "Why didn't you become a veterinarian?"  
  
And once Jongin hears Sehun's question his face softens. He looks out across the fields, watching the wind blow clouds across the mountains. Jongin's profile is beautiful and Sehun's eyes travel the length of his neck, following it to the subtle shadows of his protruding collarbones. Jongin turns back to Sehun and he looks back to the mountains, hoping that Jongin didn't notice. But then Jongin's voice pulls his eyes back, the other shrugging as he finally answers.  
  
"Because there was dancing."  
  
It's just a simple response. But the way he says it leaves no room for discussion and Sehun falls silent wondering what would Jongin's life would have been like if he had never started dancing.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
The phone rings three times before Dr. Lee picks up and Sehun doesn't even let the other say hello before he's speaking into the receiver. "You need to come back."  
  
The other sighs and Sehun feels his gut drop out. "I thought I told you before, Sehun. I haven't decided when I'll come back yet. My daughter's going to give birth soon and I want to stay until the baby's born."  
  
"But Jongin needs you." Sehun doesn't want to think about the possibility but it hangs over his head and he ends up saying it out loud anyway, the words weighing heavy on his tongue and even heavier in his mind. "What if he isn't able to dance again?"  
  
The pause after he speaks seems too long and he leans forward against his kitchen counter, gripping the edge of it with trembling fingers.  
  
"Sehun, you're a capable physiotherapist on your own. You don't need me there. You can call me to ask for advice but I can't guarantee that I'll be able to come back to Korea this month."  
  
He hangs up, leaving his phone on the counter as he walks back to his bedroom. Settling against the windowsill, he shakes another cigarette free of the carton, putting it to his lips as the cool air bites at his exposed fingers.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
Jongin finds Sehun after work, catching his elbow as he locks up the clinic. His fingers hook into the bunched fabric, tugging at Sehun's shirt before he pulls away.  
  
"I want to take you somewhere." Despite the confident tone he looks strangely shy.  
  
"Where?"  
  
Jongin only smiles.  
  
"You'll see." He shrugs, his hands sliding easily into his pockets as he walks next to Sehun. He favors his left leg as he walks, a swing in his uneven steps. "Can we take your car? My driver has the rest of the night off."  
  
And once they're in the car Jongin points the way down the different roads. The car rocks over the bumpy patches in the dirt and there are scraping noises when rocks graze against the metal. Sehun winces when the car makes a particularly loud groan and he turns to Jongin, questioning. "Are you going to tell me about this mysterious place yet?"  
  
"It's not anywhere weird. Trust me." He drums his fingers against the window and the quiet beating sounds like raindrops.  
  
The car lurches around a turn and tree branches brush against the window. The outreaching boughs trail behind the path of the car; a few of them bent. The car travels drown the road for a few more minutes before Jongin yelps for Sehun to stop.  
  
"There!"  
  
Between the trees is a small house. A short driveway stretches out before it and Sehun pulls in, letting the car come to a halt. The windows are boarded and there are stickers pasted over the door. The white siding has been stained with mud and rainwater and leaves are plastered against it, speckling the concrete base. The porch in front has partly rotted away and the mottled brown and black boards cave towards the middle.  
  
"Sorry, for making you drive all the way out here. I just wanted to see the house that we used to live in." Jongin gets out of the car gingerly, holding onto the hood of the car before walking across the tall grass. He points to a window on the second floor. "That used to be my room."  
  
Sehun kicks at the leaves pilled on the lawn. They crinkle and crumble at the contact, blowing away in dry flakes. "You lived all the way out here? It's pretty far from the center of town."  
  
"Yeah. I had to wait forever for the bus every morning." Jongin laughs. He tips his head back and a breeze ripples through the trees, the leaves muttering in the wind. He looks back at the house. "I kind of miss it."  
  
"I thought you didn't like living in the country?" Did he imagine all of Jongin's griping when they looked around the convenience store? Was he lying when he complained about the way news travels around the village?  
  
"I do and I don't." Finally he looks away from the house, facing Sehun once again. His eyebrows furrow with the weight of saying something important to him and Sehun stops kicking at the leaves. The rustling of the woods is the only noise left, and Jongin is still looking at Sehun. "Environments are important, but it's people that really _make_ a place. This place would be nothing without the memories I made with my family and this village would be nothing without the memories we've made." He pauses, offering a small smile. "Don't you think so?"  
  
And that's something Sehun can understand. He never wanted to settle in a place like this - a place where lives move like molasses and words travel like firecrackers. Yet, when he thinks of the people he's met and the relationships he's made, he can't help but feel a sense of fondness. It's people like Jongdae and Jongin that make him enjoy living here and he even likes talking to the old woman that runs the grocery store and the old men that come in with back sprains.  
  
He was so hung up on what he was missing from the city that he never thought about what he'd miss if he actually moved back there.  
  
"Yeah, I think so too."  
  
And with every day he's finding more reasons to stay.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
Sehun slowly starts to realize that Jongin's never going to dance again.  
  
The realization sets in slowly, and it hurts _so much._ And the worst part of it is that they've made so much progress the last few weeks. Jongin can walk well enough now, and the limp is barely noticeable. Despite a slip here and there when he's not paying attention, no one would even know that there had been an accident at all. To the average eye he seems completely healthy and Sehun wants to deceive himself into believing it too.  
  
But the bone still can't take the strain of everyday practice. Just to get back to the level he was at before would take hours of hard work and it's the kind of work he can't shoulder. When walking to and from the local grocery store already irritates his leg and drives him to exhaustion, dancing is out of the question. Sehun can see the way Jongin's leg tremors when he moves. And Jongin doesn't say anything. He just bears the pain, reporting the physical changes faithfully and telling Sehun again and again that he just needs to train harder.  
  
Dr. Lee still hasn't made plans to come back to America and Sehun is starting to worry. That night he faxes Dr. Lee the medical chart himself; too anxious to wait until the other returns. He's so nervous that his heart thumps wildly in his chest, his ears clogged with worry.  
  
He's never believed in birthday wishes, but now he wishes he could redeem all of them on Jongin's behalf.  
  
The ringing of the phone is shrill within his ears and it's a few more minutes before Dr. Lee picks up. "I got your fax." He says by way of greeting and Sehun clutches at his phone.  
  
"Please." Sehun's voice wavers slightly and he clears his throat, settling down at his desk and placing the contents of the folder in front of himself.  
  
Dr. Lee looks for a long time, peering closely at all of the notes Sehun took. Sometimes he asks to confirm a word or a symptom and he fills the margins with notes. And all Sehun can hear is the rustling of paper and the scratch of a ballpoint pen. Then, once he's done with his questioning he clears his throat. "Well..."  
  
Sehun's glances up from his interlocked fingers, hesitantly letting out a breath.  
  
"And?"  
  
The older man's voice is kind.  
  
"Sehun, you know what this means."  
  
And he does.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
He waits longer than he should have to tell Jongin the news just because he can't stand to think of the way it's going to crush him. Every day he sees Jongin's honest enthusiasm, guilt fills him and he thinks about telling him. But each day he finds excuses to keep delaying it, always promising himself that he'll finally let Jongin know tomorrow.  
  
When it finally comes out it's when he doesn't expect it; a thoughtless comment when he can't stand that Jongin never stops trying. He's sick of seeing Jongin fall down and pick himself back up and he's tired of watching him bite back tears of frustration each time that he fails. And then he watches Jongin's leg collapse underneath him when he's an attempting a spin and Sehun just _says it_.  
  
But perhaps the worst part is how quietly Jongin accepts the news. Sehun thought that Jongin would scream or cry, but he does neither. He sits down, holding his leg, and he's completely quiet as Sehun tells him that he's never going to dance again.  
  
Jongin's face is frighteningly calm as he asks questions about the details. _Why? Is there any way that I can still dance for recreation?_ Sehun crouches next to him on the gym floor and the air in the room is completely dry; the boards of the floor cool under his fingers.  
  
"How long have you known?" His voice is quiet as watches Sehun's knuckles whiten when his palms press into the floor.  
  
"A few days now," Sehun admits and Jongin's face hardens.  
  
"I see." There's no anger in his voice. In fact, there's no emotion at all. "Was it fun watching me hoping for something you knew I couldn't have?"  
  
Sehun's eyes widen and the guilt and the shame he feels overwhelms his senses. "I didn't mean to... I only wanted to-"  
  
"Never mind." Jongin shakes his head, looking down at his hands as his brows knit together. "I... I shouldn't have said that."  
  
"It's okay. You're right, I should have told you earlier." He wets his lips, trying to draw moisture back into his skin and the very words feel chalky in his mouth.  
  
The conversation between them goes flat and Sehun is trying to pull moments into minutes as he tries to think of what he can possibly say next. Jongin is the one to finally break the silence; excusing himself and asking for some time alone.  
  
And as the door closes behind him, Sehun hears him let out a shuddering exhale of breath and he wonders what Jongin has left.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
There's a lot that Sehun can't do for Jongin. He can't erase the accident and he can't keep Jongin's bone from snapping under stress. His insides burn with frustration for all the things that he's powerless to change. It hurts even more that this is the field that he should have the most control over. But even if medicine has failed him, there must be something that he can do to make this better.  
  
"What kind of things does he like?" asks Jongdae when Sehun phones him that night.  
  
The answer is so automatic that Sehun doesn't even think before blurting out, "Dancing."  
  
Jongdae sighs, " _Besides_ dancing." He can practically hear Jongdae rolling his eyes in the exasperated tone of his voice.  
  
_What does he like? He's so much more than dancing, but somehow it's difficult to articulate it._  
  
"He likes action movies with happy endings. He likes buying banana milk and drinking it in the car on the way to work. He likes walking his dogs in the evening, when the sun is just beginning to set and the air is cool. He likes going barefoot outside and he likes wearing sweatshirts."  
  
There's a short pause while Jongdae tries to figure out if Sehun is done speaking or not.  
  
"I was asking you for things that could be a job, not for his OK Cupid profile." Jongdae teases him lightly.  
  
The jest makes Sehun laugh, but it's a choked laugh. Jongin has become someone this important to him and yet Sehun can't even help Jongin hold onto the things he loves.  
  
_What could he possibly come to love as much as he loves dancing?_  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
Jongin looks up when Sehun slides a flyer across the cafe table. There are a few ads circled in red and Jongin's brows furrow as he looks over the different property listings. All of them are for spacious houses with ample space for a yard, some of them already with fences ringing them. He holds up the flyer.  
  
"What's this?" He looks at Sehun suspiciously, eyes narrowing at the other.  
  
Sehun licks his lips nervously, the heat of Jongin's gaze on him making him shift awkwardly in his seat. He almost doesn't have enough courage to tell Jongin about his idea, but when he thinks about the way Jongin's face crumpled when he asked about his leg he finds enough resolve to answer. "A new dream."  
  
Jongin's eyebrows furrow further and he smoothes the flyer out over the table. "My new dream is to buy a house?"  
  
Sure the houses are nice, but the thought of buying a house doesn't really appeal to him.  
  
"No! Don't you see? All the yards are big enough for dogs to run around.... you could open a kennel or a shelter..." Sehun leans over the table, pointing to a small blank and white picture. "I looked at this one online and it looks pretty nice."  
  
Jongin's quiet and Sehun isn't sure how he feels about the idea so he continues hastily.  
  
"You said you liked dogs, didn't you? And the land is cheap around here so it wouldn't be hard to find a big place to keep them in. We could rebuild parts of the house to make it more dog friendly and maybe you could even take a few courses in pet first aid so you could deal with any emergencies. I mean I know it can't replace dancing, but..." He falls silent, letting the offer hang.  
  
And finally Jongin speaks.  
  
"Did you expect that I was just going to accept this? Did you think I was going to say _thank you, Sehun_?"  
  
Sehun's eyes widen. "No, I thought-" He didn't mean to demean Jongin's love of dancing. He knows how strong it is, and he knows how passionate the other is about it. But it's _because_ Sehun knows how important dancing is that he works hard to find a way to ease the ache of losing something defining. It's not meant to take the place of dancing, it's meant to be an alternative to sitting at home thinking about how he _can't_ dance.  
  
"You thought that I would just give up on dancing?" And Sehun can tell that Jongin is livid. His hands are clenched into the table and he's struggling to keep himself from making a scene in public.  
  
If Jongin had a chance then Sehun would take it. He'd work as hard as he could to return Jongin to the stage. He'd research and talk to all the experts of the field and he'd help Jongin recover each step of the way.  
  
But clinging to that hope is only going to hurt him now.  
  
"Jongin, you can't dance anymore. The bone, it won't-"  
  
" _Stop it._ "  
  
Jongin doesn't look angry, he just looks tired. The years of lost sleep are catching up to him now. All of the hardships he's endured over the years are raining down on him and this time he doesn't have hope and determination to protect him.  
  
He stands, crumpling the flyer up and throwing it at Sehun's face.  
  
"Don't talk to me about this ever again."  
  
The words hurt more than the crumpled paper. Sehun reaches for his drink, only to find it drained, a light ring of coffee staining the bottom.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
Jongin knows that life doesn't always move at a constant pace.  
  
There are some things in life that you expect to see in slow motion. Movies like to draw out the most dramatic elements, showing you the twist of every muscle and ligament, and you come to expect real life to be like that too. But that isn't true at all. Time didn't slow when the stage collapsed under him, and there was no frame by frame of the way his body twisted as he fell through the rotten board and the muscles snapped as his leg bent beneath his weight.  
  
No, it was only after that that time began to slow for Kim Jongin.  
  
It takes him twice as long to walk across his room as it would before the accident. Each of his steps is measured and careful. This is his own version of slow motion. And now he's going through every step of life at half the speed.  
  
The light of his computer lights up his face in the darkened room and he tugs his laptop closer. He lies down, head sinking into the pillow as he presses play. The theme of the show plays and the title flashes across the screen. He watches himself walk out onto the stage, bowing. He watches as he settles into the chair across from the mc, easily answering questions. He watches himself smile and he watches himself fidget nervously.  
  
He watches himself tell the interviewer that he'd have no regrets dying on stage.  
  
And then he replays it.  
  
By the time he finishes Jongin had finally stripped himself down to who he was: a young boy, wanting to dance who had been molded into the perfect entertainer. Then he cried for the boy that had died, and he cried even more tears for the one who had taken his place.  
  
He remembers faintly that he used to wish on stars before all of this happened. Stupid. Naive.  
  
But sometimes you just know things.  
  
Because just as he knew that he was destined to be a dancer he also knew now that he was destined to lose that dream. He knew that he was never going to move the same way he had before and that he'd never regain the same strength he'd had before the accident.  
  
Life had slowed, and maybe that could be okay too.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
The door of his office clicks open and Sehun doesn't bother looking up, too busy revising the previous patient's chart.  
  
"Mr. Byun, it's not your turn yet. You're going to have to wait until the nurse calls you in."  
  
He rubs at the bridge of his nose. He's not looking forward to wasting another hour looking at an uninjured ankle.  
  
"Hi."  
  
Sehun finally looks up, slowly lowering the clipboard he was reading.  
  
"Jongin."  
  
He thinks of saying _I'm sorry_ and he thinks of saying _How are you?_ But both of them sound wrong. So instead he waits for Jongin to speak.  
  
"Do you still have that flyer of the different properties?" Jongin scratches at his nape, embarrassed.  
  
And Sehun smiles.  
  
  
/\\\//\  
  
  
Country life suits Jongin. After a year of therapy his leg holds up well in his everyday life, and even the chores around the kennel don't bother it much. There are days (there are always _those days_ ) when his legs aches and he has trouble getting it to move the way that he wants it to, but he gets through them.  
  
And maybe it was frustrating at first, to slow down his pace of living to match the lazy pace of the country, but now he cherishes the moments hanging in the between times. It's the slow trickle of time that drips between the cracks that he lets pool in his hands; careful to keep the moments precious to him from spilling onto the ground.  
  
It's near dinner time but he lets the dogs run free, jogging alongside a few of the slower ones and dipping down to lob a few tennis balls across the yard. He watches the dogs play, crouching down to scratch behind one of the dog's ears. His mind is so full of the animals in front of him that he doesn't even hear the gate open behind him.  
  
"I said we were going to go out to dinner someplace nice tonight and when I come over I find you getting your suit dirty playing with the dogs."  
  
Jongin gets to his feet, laughing. "I'm sorry, but they looked so sad. Like they knew they were going to be left behind tonight." His eyes turn pleading. "Are you sure we can't take them with us?"  
  
"I don't think the dogs would like going to a black-tie event. They'd probably be happier at home."  
  
Jongin sighs, "Fine." Then he looks down at his shirt and slacks, wincing at the short white hairs covering him.  
  
Watching him, Sehun bites back his laughter. "I've got a lint roller in the car, let's go."  
  
And in the end they actually go to same dingy restaurant they usually go to and Jongin hits Sehun on the shoulder, asking why he'd made a big deal out of dinner and lamenting the fact that the dogs were home alone and Sehun rubs his arm, protesting that pretending to go to a nice place is the only way he can get Jongin away from his furry charges.  
  
Maybe it's a little different from the ending they'd wanted and a little different from the ending they'd hoped for, but it doesn't mean that they're any less happy, the moments between them gathering like rainwater in a bucket.


End file.
